


Oli's Moon Drabbles

by Valkiriana



Category: ONEUS (Band), ONEWE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Mechanics, Alternate Universe - Office, Bodyswap, Exes, M/M, Unbeta'ed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:01:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valkiriana/pseuds/Valkiriana
Summary: Oneus and Onewe drabbles that I write at night, requested via twitter or otherwise <3Pairings are on each drabble's title and a little summary's on the notes. Tags will be updated with each new drabble!
Relationships: Ju Harin/Son Dongmyeong, Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Lee Seoho, Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong, Lee Seoho & Son Dongju | Xion
Comments: 38
Kudos: 66





	1. Geonhak/Seoho

**Author's Note:**

> Geonhak and Seoho are ex-boyfriends working at an editorial together. They hate each other's guts- or, more or less.

.  
  
  


“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Seoho claims out loud, effectively interrupting Geonhak’s pretentious presentation and earning more than a few frustrated sighs from his co-workers in the meeting room- and a murderous look from the man in question. But Seoho doesn’t care. In fact, he likes to think he thrives in the face of adversity.  
  
“You’re interpreting the data all wrong- If most of our customers aren’t past the forty years old line, whatever makes you think we should target older readers? It’s common sense-”  
  
“If you had actually heard anything I’ve said, you’d know.” His idiotically hot ex-boyfriend replies in that infuriatingly hot, deep commanding voice of his. He stands tall and imposing, completely unbothered about all the eyes fixed on him, and Seoho is sure- 100%, that that tight - obscenely so- shirt he’s wearing was especially selected to rile him up. God, he’s so unprofessional. But unlike him, Seoho is _nothing_ if not a professional, so he doesn’t let Geonhak’s heavenly body distract him and proceeds to pay attention to the _very_ consequential fight he’s just picked. “Our author does better among older readers and his new novel screams 80’s nostalgia-”  
  
“Which is currently a magnet for younger generations- your point being?” Seoho raises a skeptical eyebrow, and he can spot the way Geonhak’s papers crumple under the pressure of his fist tightening- enticing in Seoho a deep, twisted sort of satisfaction that morphs his features into a little smirk.  
  
“That you should stay in your line of work- which _isn’t_ marketing- or shut up otherwise.” Geonhak is seething at this point. He puts both his palms on the large table and leans in, intimidating the heck out of everybody in the room- except Seoho, of course. He’s been the target of Geonhak’s temper more than enough times to know he’s harmless- mostly.  
  
“ _Make me_.”  
  
Seoho can visibly spot the way Hwanwoong shrinks into his chair- Keonhee, their youngest editor, seems close to tears, while their intern Dongju takes repeated looks at the door, as if calculating an escape route. The room is overtaken by a tension so thick, for a moment, it feels as though they were underwater, engulfing everything and everyone into unbearable expectation- like a bomb ticking, seconds away from exploding. It’s as if time had decided to thread slowly, and Seoho can see, in slowmotion, the way Geonhak’s face morphs from anger into disbelief, confusion- _temptation-_ and then pure, absolute anger, the kind of anger that Seoho has only ever seen a handful of times in him.

It doesn't look good.   
  
The moment Geonhak opens his mouth to retaliate, Seoho braces himself for cruelness, all anticipation for their daily- well _hourly_ \- argument dissipating into thin air and making him regret showing up at work altogether.  
  
“Okay, you two, _out.”_ _  
__  
_But the dreaded yelling doesn’t come. Instead, the voice of their calm, soft spoken boss reaches their ears, effectively soothing the tight atmosphere in the room.  
  
“ _What_?” The reprimanded pair complain in unison, glancing back at each other for a second before averting their eyes to their impassively looking boss, whose only display of displeasure is the lack of his signature kind smile.  
  
“But Youngjo, I’m only half-way done with this-” Geonhak sputters in protest, as he goes through his wrinkled papers a bit frantically. Seoho rolls his eyes at the sight and leans back against his chair with a huff.  
  
“Thank god, we weren’t gonna be done til’ tomorrow-”  
  
“He’s got a fucking death wish-” Hwanwoong mumbles with his forehead against the table and flinches when Geonhak slams the papers on the table, inches away from him.  
  
“On other thoughts, lovebirds, you’re both on archive duty for the rest of the day.”  
  
“ _Lovebirds?_ What? _”_ _  
__  
__“_ But Youngjo-!”  
  
“One more word and I’ll make it a week.” Youngjo states, closing his folder for dramatic effect and motioning for the door, leaving no room for arguments.  
  
Seoho leaves first, but not without making his disgust obvious by stomping off as hard as he can. The week sucks, and it’s only monday.  
  
  
… 

  
  
Archiving is endless _.  
  
_ It is, by far, the worst imaginable torture anyone could bestow upon him, and Youngjo, being the lovingly observant BB (boss bastard) that he is, very well knows it.  
  
It’s all made worse by the fact that Geonhak is enjoying this. After all, he’s always been good with organization stuff and his hands- god, Seoho misses his hands. Not that he would ever say it aloud. But as his mind rots at the sight of mountains of papers and black ink that surround him on the floor, he can’t help but let his mind wander. Before Seoho knows it, he’s been blatantly staring at Geonhak’s hands for entire minutes by now- the sleeves rolled up doing nothing to help his case. His ex does have wonderful forearms, after all- Seoho should have never told him so back when they were dating.   
  
He handed it straight to him like the dumbass in love that he is- _no_. Was. Now Geonhak gloats with the memory of every compliment Seoho ever gave him.   
  
“Keep that going and I’ll file a complaint with HR.” Geonhak mumbles from his place on the table, as he's made aware of Seoho's obvious staring- though there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips. It’s a befitting illustration of Seoho’s feelings, he thinks- him on the floor, a mess all around him, while Geonhak sits above him, all grace and self-assurance, his papers neatly organized in piles on the table.  
  
“For what, harassment? Don’t make me laugh.” Seoho replies with a huff and quickly averts his eyes before he can get into a pity-party. “It’s not like you don’t love the attention.” He mumbles bitterly, just to rile him up.  
  
“What was that? I coulddn't hear you over the noise of all your pettiness.”  
  
“I _said_ -” Seoho feels the irritation bubbling up inside him, tension so unbearable he can’t help but snap, standing up and walking up to his ex with fire in his eyes. “That I know what you’re doing. You think I don’t notice? The clothes? The flirting with the secretary? The delivery boy? The interns? With literally everyone else in the office?” Seoho laughs, drily and without a single trace of amusement while he lands his hands on each of Geonhak’s armchairs, as if making a pitiful attempt at trapping him. Pitiful, because they both know Geonhak has enough strength to free himself with a flick of the wrist.  
  
And yet, he stays. Geonhak stays and looks up at him as if Seoho was the one trapped, pinned under his stare, prisoner of his feelings for him.  
  
“It’s funny that you think everything revolves around you. Or what is it? Distracted much?”  
  
“You flirt right in front of me.” Seoho grunts, and doesn’t back off even when Geonhak leans in, faces mere inches apart, and it’d be so easy, so very easy to just lean in and punch him. On his lips. With his own lips. God that’d give him a lesson alright.   
  
“So what, Seoho?” Geonhak’s minty breath ghosts over his face, making Seoho momentarily forget just how much of an asshole he is. “You broke up with me, remember? I get to do whatever I want-”  
  
“It’s not just that.” Seoho replies through gritted teeth, eyes straying to Geonhak’s mouth.  
  
“Then what is it?”  
  
“Your incessant attempts to outsmart me at everything I do, my _god_ , can’t you get a life beyond me? It’s _obnoxious._ ”  
  
“Or maybe you’re just bad at your job.” Geonhak shrugs, but doesn’t break the eye contact, just feeding the fire that grows inside of Seoho that starts to feel less like an urge to punch Geonhak’s handsome face and more like an overwhelming urge to bite him in the neck- right on his gorgeous, warm looking skin-  
  
 _“I fucking hate you”_ Seoho seethes- he thinks he’s hurt Geonhak, that he’s hit exactly where it hurts him the most- and yet, His ex boyfriend’s eyes soften, and Seoho feels the warmth of palms cupping his face, a pressure right on his lips. A kiss. Geonhak kissing him as wave after wave of softening affection washes over him, weakens his body until his knees buckle, and he lands right onto Geonhak’s lap who welcomes him wholeheartedly with an arm around his waist. _  
_  
“I miss you too.” Geonhak whispers sweetly against his mouth, as though the words were another kiss.  
  
"You're an asshole." Seoho mumbles, barely articulating the words against Geonhak's lips, earning himself the prettiest, most lovingly high pitched laugh Geonhak has ever granted him. It makes him melt, body giving in as he lets go of months of accumulated, repressed feelings.   
  
And in the midst of Seoho’s overwhelming whirl of thoughts, he realizes, belatedly, that he’s pronounced the wrong words. A freudian slip that he forgets all about the moment Geonhak's ticklish hands skitter under his shirt, soothing the heat simmering deep in his belly.   
  
  
_I fucking hate you,_ he thought, but _I fucking miss you_ is what he voiced instead.  
  
…

  
“So? Can you see what they’re doing?” A clingy Dongju hits on Hwanwoong’s back insistently as the other kneels on the floor while he attempts to take a peek through the lock of the door. A strangely normal sight in the daily activities of the office.   
  
“Oh _god-_ definitely something not- work friendly- god, my _eye-”_  
  
“Ewwwwww.” Dongju whines in dramatic fashion, pulling away to go shiver by his desk and tell Keonhee all about it. Even the details he doesn’t know.  
  
“Leave them alone.” Youngjo gently berates as he walks by while reading a new submission, manuscript in one hand and coffee in the other like the god of multitasking that he is. There's a relaxed air around him, expression content and no sign of that looming stress he's gotten used to carry these past weeks.   
  
“Does this really not bother you? Should you not- Should you not be doing- I don’t know _do something?_ ” Hwanwoong asks helplessly as he sits back on his heels on the floor- once he’s done with his voyeuristic mission of sorts.  
  
His boss, though, looking completely unbothered, takes a sip of his coffee and smiles to himself- only then, does he finally avert his eyes from the paper to fix Hwanwoong with a knowing look.  
  
“I did. Nothing better to fix the work environment than those two working through their stuff together, don’t you think?- _In any way they see fit._ ” A little cordial smile and Youngjo’s gone, leaving Hwanwoong alone to understand the evil-mastery behind his plan until he hears a little noise coming from the room, prompting him to run back to his desk, horrified.  
  
Hwanwoong does have to give it to his boss, though- his workmates making out on every available surface used to be- and still is, infinitely better than their endless fights and arguments. At least this way, they’ll keep quiet, Hwanwoong thinks. More or less. _  
_  
  
  
  


.


	2. Seoho/Dongju

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not like dongju has a crush on the dark, tall and handsome tattoo artist that entices sighs and swoons all throughout their little shopping street. It’s not a crush, no. It’s just… Dongju feels things. 
> 
> And how could he not? Seoho’s infuriatingly hot- objectively speaking, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Florist Dongju and tattoo artist Seoho featuring the most annoying best friend hwanwoong with a slash of rawoong, hope you enjoy!

  
  
  
  
“No, but like- He’s _cute_ cute, you know what I mean? He’s got this mysterious aura around him- and he’s got tons of clients already too, even though he just moved next door-” Hwanwoong gossips to one of their loyal clients- a young man in his late twenties that buys carnations every Saturday if only to stay and chat half an hour with Hwanwoong afterwards- or well. Flirt would be a more fitting word for it.  
  
It's okay. Dongju doesn’t mind. Not _that_ much. The problem isn’t him as much as the fact that his coworker and best friend has the attention span of a goldfish.  
  


It turns the usually calm and relaxing art of making bouquets into a stressful and hurried ordeal that Dongju loathes with all his being. The results? Horrendous. Who wants crooked peonies and half leafless lilacs? Nevermind that customers can’t spot those flaws. Dongju does, and that’s enough to get him in a bad mood for the rest of the day. And all because Hwanwoong just won’t stop making heart eyes at the handsome customer and do his job properly. But then again, Dongju can’t exactly put all the blame on him. After all it is Youngjo the one who has been courting him for months with poor excuses and dazzling smiles and still won’t gather the courage to ask him out once and for all.  
  
Idiots, the both of them.  
  
If there’s something Dongju hates more than imperfect bouquets, well, that would be people in love. And yes, he is bright enough that the irony is not lost on him. A florist that hates love? Sounds like the bland cliché plot of a romcom starring Julia Roberts in the nineties. 

Dongju smiles to himself in amusement as he mists the orchids and begonias, lost in his little mental replay of Notting Hill when the annoying little demon voice of Hwanwoong reaches his ears-  
  
“Yeah, Dongju likes him lots”  
  
“Wh-what? Oh my god, will you _stop_ with that already?” Dongju sputters, grumbling with flaming red cheeks when he understands what’s going on.  
  
But the ominous smirk Hwanwoong displays tells Dongju this has only just begun.  
  
“What?” He sasses, the little cocky face made all the more infuriating with the incessant cheeky popping of his trademark chewing gum that made him oh so popular during high school. “Am I lying? You can’t say a single world to him without blushing like a school girl- and he opened the parlour two weeks ago already-”  
  
“ _Shut up.”_ Dongju throws Hwanwoong a fleeting murderous look that scarily morphs into a gentle one once an old lady passes by the entry. “Don’t pay attention to him, he’s just jealous Seoho hasn’t fallen for his endless flirting.” He tells Youngjo, who seems utterly unaffected at the new information and keeps his pretty smile on as if he were a flight attendant.   
  
“Wonder how.” Their customer replies shamelessly, leaning over the counter as he waits for Hwanwoong to finish his order- a bouquet that should have been done fifteen minutes ago. But at the pace his friend is going, he won’t be done before their lunch break.  
  
The blatant innuendo goes unnoticed- or skillfully ignored by his friend, who continues handpicking every flower as if they were jewels, one by one, each carefully inspected and compared before being laid down delicately on the counter.  
  
“Ooh, _Seoho,_ your crush has a name!” Hwanwoong teases as he pretends not to notice Youngjo’s eyes on him- eyes that follow his every move across the tiny, colorful shop.  
  
“You _know_ his name too, he came by last week and bought some flowers-”  
  
“Yeah, and he gave him a _discount-”_ Hwanwoong mouths to Youngjo, who looks delighted at their little alliance- until Hwanwoong gets misted in the face by a very disgruntled Dongju.  
  
“We always give discount to new clients!” Dongju feels no pity whatsoever for Hwanwoong’s little pout- not when he gets Youngjo to pat him dry with his sleeve soon after anyways. He doesn't deserve him. He doesn't deserve him one bit.   
  
“Not if they’re imported roses!” Hwanwoong whines and then gently pushes Youngjo’s hand away with a boyish smile. “That was extremely unprofessional of you and I’m disappointed in you!”  
  
Dongju says nothing as he rolls his eyes and pushes past him and behind the counter to start preparing their afternoon orders- and hopefully, get out of his head a little bit.

But of course, the devil never sleeps.  
  
“Anyways- like I was saying, _Seoho_ is super cute and Keonhee, the hairstylist down the street says that he’s cut his hair last week and that it was impossible for him to get info. He doesn’t talk much apparently- but he has tattoos that reach all the way up his nape and even a tongue piercing- hey, hey Dongju, did you hear that? He’s got a _tongue_ piercing, did you know?”  
  
Dongju grunts out an intelligible reply and wills all the thoughts away from his head- but alas, even the most interesting narcissus pales in comparison to a goddamn tongue piercing- _oh my god._ The blush must reach up to his ears because next thing he knows the room seems to heat up by entire degrees, while Hwanwoong’s cackle resounds in the room.  
  
Somewhere in the background, Dongju can spot Youngjo sighing dreamily, and as the others’s hands brush on the counter he hears Hwanwoong quiet down in favour of smiling sweetly up at the older man. Dongju thinks that sometimes the tug in his chest feels a lot like longing and nothing like the disgust he boasts about so much.  
  
Hate and envy, it seems, are two damn annoying feelings, and Dongju can’t tell them apart to save his life.  
  
...  
  
It's not like dongju has a crush on the dark, tall and handsome tattoo artist that entices sighs and swoons all throughout their little shopping street. It’s not a crush, no. It’s just… Dongju _feels_ things.  
  
And how could he not? Seoho’s infuriatingly hot- objectively speaking, that is.  
  
This is just his healthy body reacting healthily to another attractive human being. A human being that has been dancing around in his head ever since they’ve met and has had a privileged place in all of Dongju’s romantic fantasies before sleep for three days in a row. And counting.   
  
Yeah. Just plain normal stuff.  
  
It doesn’t help the fact that for all his quietness, Dongju’s a curious person by nature, and the foreign new presence in their never-changing small town is nothing short of fascinating to him. To him and everyone else, he knows. Dongju’s aware of the exceptionally pretty looking girls that visit Seoho’s parlour with poor excuses, only to leave the place minutes later, giggling and gossiping to never come back.  
  
He’s also aware that he has no right to judge them, all things considered. After all, he has been caught by Seoho’s keen eyes more than once as he tried to (un)subtly take a peek through the display window while he swept the street or fixed the flowers sitting outside the shop.  
  
And he hates himself for being just like them. He hates that one look from the man and Dongju has to avert his eyes in shame, cheeks warming up embarrassingly quick. And Seoho, who for all his dark aura has the smile of an angel- and the gentlest voice Dongju has ever heard- always waves at him in a friendly manner that has him melting inside, tingly and giddy for the rest of the day. It makes him look down until he gets home, afraid he’ll cave in and smile so hard everyone will notice about his big fat cru- no. His _attraction_ to the man.  
  
So Dongju makes it his personal mission to avoid Seoho like the plague. He opens the shop way earlier than he should, if only to escape from those awkward exchanges of _good mornings_ and bland weather talk that leave him shaky and insecure for the rest of his shift. He vehemently refuses to do any sweeping duty, or take care of arranging the displays outside, and chooses instead, to willingly put up with a whining Hwanwoong that complains like a child who resists tidying his own toys. Moreover, Dongju spends his lunch break inside, even on the nicest day, if only to avoid crossing paths with their gorgeous _neighbour_ as Hwanwoong has gotten around to calling him.  
  
Dongju works hard but the devil (read: Hwanwoong) works harder, and all of Dongju’s miserable efforts are thrown out the window one thursday evening when their boss allows them to leave earlier and his friend physically drags him outside despite his protests.  
  
It is mortifying. It all happens so fast. One moment, all Dongju can see and hear is Hwanwoong’s hair, his adamant voice and surprisingly strong tugs as he struggles to break free- and, the next, Hwanwoong lets go and he’s out stumbling, being caught just in time by a hand on his arm that’s as foreign as it is reassuring.  
  
Until Dongju raises his head and stares, petrified, into the eyes of Seoho.  
  
They’re such fierce eyes, so beautifully decorated with slight makeup that Dongju hadn’t noticed before- and as he stammers, racks his head for one miserable _thank you,_ Dongju realizes, heart dropping, that not only has Seoho effortlessly caught him with one hand, but that he’s expertly maneuvered the lit cigarette on his other hand far away from him. And really, he should be ashamed, but all Dongju can think is just how _good_ it smells- kind of like chocolate. _Oh god, he even likes what he smokes-_ _  
__  
_“I- god, I’m- I’m so sorry-” He croaks out once he gets a break from whatever lust spell Seoho has gotten him into. He clears his throat awkwardly and quietly tugs at his arm to be let go- but Seoho doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, halfway and almost cocky, as he slowly lets his thumb caress over the fabric of his sleeve, as if by accident.  
  
“You good?” He asks, that mellow voice of him somehow soothing and exhilarating at the same time, so unlike anything he's felt lately. So Dongju nods dumbly, stares at his arm slightly in awe until Hwanwoong loudly clears his throat, and he’s finally- unfortunately- released.  
  
“Hi, Seoho.” Hwanwoong greets coyly, treating him casually as though they were long term friends. The tattoo artist doesn’t seem to mind, taking one step back to take a drag of his cigarette and blowing the smoke away before replying, eyes only leaving Dongju’s to take a glimpse at his friend.  
  
“Hwanwoong.” A nod, one single, effortless greeting that has Dongju even more hot and bothered than before. Oh god, is he _blushing again-_ _  
__  
_“Fancy seeing you here. No clients?” Hwanwoong continues, getting strangely close to Dongju and throwing a hand across his shoulders. Extremely suspicious.  
  
Seoho eyes the movement- his eyes seem to quip with interest at the slight interaction, and yet he says nothing of it. Dongju might as well have imagined it. With how nervous he is, he thinks it possible.  
  
“Someone cancelled last minute.” Seoho shrugs, as if unbothered, and finally looks down, lets Dongju breathe as his foot mindlessly plays with a little peddle on the street.  
  
“Oh, that is great!” Hwanwoong suddenly exclaims with over the top delight, shocking the hell out of Dongju, who’s tense enough already to get his back all tangled up in knots. “‘Cause Dongju here is thinking about getting a tattoo since forever but our schedules always overlap and you’re always so busy anyways-”  
  
“I- I- _what_ ?” Dongju’s eyes fly wide open before he gets pinched on the side, hard enough to make him hiss and shut up. Hwanwoong maintains the face of innocence itself as he grins expectantly at Seoho. Sure, Dongju has mentioned wanting one, but it was _months_ ago. Does Hwanwoong even remember? No. He couldn't possibly. He's just sent him to the slaughterhouse to fend for himself and Dongju is so done.  
  
Such a devious, devious creature-  
  
“Well, I have time right now if you wanna come inside and tell me about it. See what you want, if it can be done.” Seoho speaks all of a sudden, already putting out his cigarette against the heel of his boot in what’s probably the hottest thing Dongju’s ever seen.  
  
“That’d be wonderful, thank you- see, Ju? Go tell Seoho _what you want-”_ _  
__  
_And oh. _Oh_ , Dongju will honest to god murder his friend one day but right now he’s too busy freaking out about the way Seoho looks completely unphased as he opens his door and invites him in with a tilted head and an arched eyebrow. He looks exactly like one of those idols posing for a bad boy concept shoot of a magazine Dongju would have bought back when he was fourteen and he wants to _scream-_ _  
__  
_“I uh- if it’s no bother-” It’s what comes out instead, because for all his fierce facade of stoic apathy, Dongju is the least assertive person he knows, and considering Dongju knows Kim Youngjo, that’s saying something.  
  
“Would not offer if it were.” Seoho replies in what seems slight amusement, and the last thing Dongju can hear as he walks inside with weak knees and a pounding heart is his friend’s loud, obnoxious _have fun!_ as he prays to heaven to please rid him of all feelings.  
  
...  
  
It’s a funny thing, going from such a vibrant place like the flower shop to something so dark and edgy like the inside of Seoho’s shop- all red and black, decorated with all sorts of art and pictures of tattooed people that would make his grandmother- god rest her soul- sanctify herself in shock.  
  
"You smell like flowers." Seoho chuckles quietly, as if he had no idea to all the things he's doing to him. None at all.   
  
"Perks of the job, I guess." And this, this is finally looking like a normal conversation. Finally, he can compensate for all the times he made a fool out of not being able to stitch more than three words together in front of him.   
  
Dongju also has a chance to take a look- really take a look at Seoho. He lets himself stare, clumsy and obvious, as he takes advantage of the way the older man is cleaning around the counter slightly, searching for catalogues and references. And wow, if Dongju thought him gorgeous before, he’s nothing but heavenly in his eyes now that he’s seeing the perfect proportions of a body that seems sculpted by great ancient greek artists that-  
  
“So, what did you have in mind?” The other’s voice snaps him out of his reverie, making him flustered and nervous and overall brain dead. Because there, just like Keonhee informed, Dongju can finally spot it- the metal peeking, shining through his barely open lips- lips that are so pink, so alluring- And though Dongju doesn't faint, he is sure all this blood in his head cannot be without near future consequences.  
  
“I- uh, something on my arm maybe?” Dongju shrugs when he manages to calm himself. looking around as if lost as he hugs one of his arms around his waist. Seoho notices- of course he notices, because he won’t get those eyes of his away from him and it’s making him feel all sorts of things Dongju has refused to feel for years now. “Something small- not too flashy, I was thinking-  
  
“Don’t tell me- a flower?” Seoho asks, leaning with both elbows on the counter, when he realizes the other will not leave the spot in the middle of the room.   
  
The correct guess makes him look up in surprise. He’s met with a gentleness in the other’s face that’s far from what he’s expected of Seoho, even despite all the friendliness he’s already shown to him. And he thinks- could it…. could it be? Could Hwanwoong’s recklessness be all because of this? The way he’s looking, staring, liking-  
  
From that angle, Dongju also gets a glimpse of the ink that peeks up the lose collar, conjuring all kind of images in his head that he won't be able to shake off until he finally sees what hides underneath the oversized shirts and hoodies Seoho always wears.   
  
“Yeah. A flower would be nice.” Dongju swallows, gathers his courage along with his thoughts and fantasies and walks until he can rest both of his hands on the counter. Close, closer than before.   
  
He’s rewarded with a little hum and a dazzling sort of smile that makes him dizzy for a moment, and before he knows it, Seoho pulls back to take his arm gently.  
  
“Not a rose, I bet.” He moves excruciatingly slow, as if not to scare him, and Dongju cannot help but find it endearing. At least he knows he's not the only one walking on eggshells here. It makes him smile, softly, secretly, all for himself, while Seoho turns his palm up and gently slides his sleeve up to show his inner forearm.  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
“It’s too obvious. You don’t strike me as someone so obvious.” Seoho glances up pointedly and then his thumb caresses his arm again, just like he did before- but this time it’s right against his skin. A caress so soft and unexpected it makes Dongju shiver all the way to his head. “Something here would look nice.” Seoho says, and lets go, even though Dongju wishes he wouldn’t.  
  
“Does it hurt?” Dongju asks, because he’s got nothing left to say, and he’s afraid this painfully fake excuse will pop and then they’ll have nothing to do but face the fact that the tension that has built in the room is unreal- and Dongju, he won’t have any other choice but to kiss him- and really, he’s fairly sure it’s way too soon to kiss someone you barely even know, while _sober_ of all things.  
  
“Depends how good you are with pain.” Seoho replies as he tilts his head to fix his fringe, and Dongju finds that he quite likes it when he does that.  
  
“Terrible. I always wear double gloves when I have to deal with thorns.” Dongju’s as honest as they come- yet only when he’s comfortable, and he’s fascinated at how fast this is going.  
  
Seoho laughs, an honest little melodious sound of amusement that is so delightful Dongju will replay it today for himself before he sleeps.  
  
“Then I’ll be extra gentle.” Seoho smiles along with a wink, before taking his book and showing his wonderful art to Dongju.  
  
"What about something like this?" Dongju stops when he sees the beautiful drawing of a lilac, so delicate and beautifully depicted, he can't help but want to take it with him.   
  
"I think it woud suit you." Seoho replies and inspects Dongju's inner forearm again, though he suspects there's no real reason behind it anymore. If there ever was one. "You have such pretty skin."  
  
It’s not until half an hour later that Dongju leaves the place with an appointment, a date, and the biggest smile he’s had in months. Along, he carries the tingly feeling of Seoho's warm lips against the corner of his mouth.   
  
Hwanwoong will give him hell tomorrow, but at least Dongju will have a pretty nice view to distract himself with as he sweeps the street for way too long and thinks of the pretty lilac that will soon be painted into his skin.   
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this! If you did, lmk in the comments <3


	3. Harin/Dongmyeong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dongmyeong's willing to sacrifice quite a lot to get his hot- and oblivious- mechanic's attention. His car, mostly, and maybe his brother's sanity along with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning bcs I know literally nothing about cars.  
> Also... so much blatant onesided flirting.  
> Unbeta'ed, so as to not break my now tradition of publishing fics unrevised

.

Dongmyeong slides the chapstick smoothly against his bottom lip, careful as to not overdo it. He looks cute already- he knows that much, because he’s made sure of it. He made sure every inch of himself looks nothing but impeccable. Dongmyeong even went as far as to wake up extra early to give his skin some love with his skincare for  _ special occasions only _ , the one he spent a good chunk of his monthly allowance on and got a good scolding for it afterwards- from his brother out of all people.    
  
“Honestly, you’re a disgrace for this family. Can’t believe we’re even related-”    
  
Dongmyeong rolls his eyes and closes his mirror, smacking his lips with a deadpan expression as he carefully messes up his hair- a little trick to look more unkempt, fresher.    
  
“Oh, quit your whining, Ju, enjoy the fact that you’re not studying for once- In fact, you should thank me for taking you away from your books. See the world. Live a little.” Dongmyeong declares with a sweet, sweet smile, as he finishes fixing the cuffs of his freshly ironed, designer white shirt. He wants to look  _ spotless.  _   
  
His brother, sitting in the driver's seat and looking as moody as he comes, doesn’t seem to share his enthusiasm over this whole brotherly favour of driving him to the workshop. For the third time this month.   
  
“Oh well,  _ excuse me  _ for studying- not all of us are piano prodigies, you know-”   
  
“That’s cute, you flatter me.” Dongmyeong mumbles noncommittally as he finishes the last retouches, feeling his jittery nerves dancing all over his stomach. “There, how do I look?”   
  
Dongju gives him one reluctant look and grimaces. “Like you’re advertising yourself.” His nose scrunches. “And like you bathed in cologne.”   
  
“That’s perfect!” Dongmyeong exclaims and finally gets off the car, winking at Dongju through the open window. “Don’t wait up for me- I think this is my lucky day.”   
  
Donmyeong hears a gagging sound as he struts the short way to the workshop.    
  
_ “Gross!” _ _  
_ _  
_ Truth be told, Dongmyeong never goes to such lengths to catch a boy’s attention. He never does much of the chasing himself at all, if he’s honest. But alas, this one seems to need a little push of sorts- and Dongmyeong’s never been one to back down from a challenge. Granted, his methods can be a little  _ questionable _ to say the least _ \-  _ Wouldn’t it be easy to just ask for man’s number instead of finding ways to fuck up his car every week?    
  
But see that’s the point. Dongmyeong doesn’t want to ask for his number. Dongmyeong wants him so head over heels for him he can’t help but do it himself- or better yet, just take one look at him and lose his mind right there and then, kiss him fully on the mouth before he can even say hello.    
  


But unfortunately, all his fantasies are crushed the moment he steps foot in the loud, dark workshop that’s mostly empty except for all the dead cars and a snoring receptionist.   
  
So much for having the kiss of his life, Dongmyeong huffs, looking around for the- most likely- man of his dreams yet unable to spot him.  
  
“Welcome to Ju’s worksh- Oh. Dongmyeong?” A voice comes behind him, and Dongmyeong plasters his prettiest smile before turning around.   
  
“Oh, Harin! I didn’t know you worked this late!” Of course he did, he sneaked in a picture of his schedule on the wall last time he was here. “Such a hardworking man-” Dongmyeong clicks his tongue, giving the other a languid onceover. And how could he not? That body can only belong to a museum- Dongmyeong can’t wait to date him. He wants to date his ass so bad, so lovingly, Harin will have no chance but to accept tagging along on his next european vacation so Dongmyeong can treat him like the prince he is supposed to be.   
  
Harin doesn’t seem to notice, throwing the towel over his exposed shoulder- god Dongmyeong loves it when he does that- and smiling so brilliant it feels as bright as the lights when Dongmyeong gets on stage to perform. “My shift will be over in a few minutes actually- but, I’m afraid your car isn’t ready yet- did I tell you to come over so soon-?”  
  
“Oh, no, no- I was just passing by and I thought maybe I’d try my luck.” Dongmyeong motion vaguely, trying very hard to take his eyes away from Harin’s glinting, oiled up skin, the way his arms look oh so strong he’d probably be able to carry him bridal style without even breaking a sweat.   
  
“Well, to tell you the truth-” Harin starts, leaning in as if to whisper a secret. “I always do your car first, since you’re such a loyal customer, but this week we’ve just been swamped with work.” He finishes, and regrettably pulls away, making Dongmyeong almost get on his toes to stay close.   
  
“You’re always _so_ nice to me.” Dongmyeong sighs in a way that would be fitting for a period piece lady in love fanning herself in front of a lover.   
  
Harin seems flustered to hear that, scratching the back of his hair as he stammers over his words. “I- I- well I try- I’m really sorry you’re having such bad luck with your car. It’s such a nice car too, quite new- we’ve never had someone come so often for different things-”  
  
“That’s okay, I like walking anyway.” Dongmyeong lies swiftly, pretending to be low-maintenance while making cute eyes at the other.   
  
Dongmyeong’s aware that he might be overdoing it a tiny bit.   
  
The first time it was an honest to god malfunction, Dongmyeong would swear so over a bible. The second? Well, a brick against the window and that did the trick- he could blame it on attempted robbery. Now the third was more complicated, since Dongmyeong tried to step up his game and it implied a lot more planning- after all, he didn’t want Harin to think he was a bad driver. So he drove far away in the middle of nowhere and drove the car back against an iron fence- which he then blamed on a car accident that was completely not his responsibility. Harin had been extra sweet that time, all surprised eyes and looks of concern, sweet words of encouragement that he expressed along with his happiness for his well being.   
  
Did Dongmyeong feel bad? Kinda. But then he spotted Harin taking a look at his ass and _bingo._ A guilt free mastermind plan succeeded.   
  
This is the fourth time, and he swears to Dongju it will be the last. And honestly, it has to be, because as wealthy as he is, Dongmyeong is currently living on allowance until he’s done with his studies. Should he keep this up and ask for more money, he’s pretty sure Dongju will rat him out to his parents and that is by far the least thing he needs right now.  
  
It doesn’t help that he actually paid someone to fuck up with his tyre and wheel balance just that he could have a reason to come to Harin.   
  
But alas, that is the sacrifices one must make for love. Or lust. Or whatever this is.   
  
“That’s- it’s good exercise.” Harin says, clearing his throat when he tries to cover up that he’s just taken a very obvious glimpse at his legs.   
  
So late this work day, without the risk of any customer walking in, Dongmyeong bites his lips and decides that _fuck it-_ _  
__  
_ “Mhm… Having no car has more perks than I imagined.” Dongmyeong murmurs as he takes one step closer, hands behind his back while looking up at Harin as if he were the face of innocence itself.   
  
“Oh? Like- like what?” Harin asks, his voice trembling slightly- and it’s such a rush of power. Does he like this? Is Dongmyeong what he wants? Because Dongmyeong is ready to give him anything he asks for, if just to please him, just to make him so, so happy-  
  
“Well, for starters-” Dongmyeong lowers his voice to a whisper, checking his surroundings one more time before sliding one of his hands up and taking the towel hanging from Harin’s shoulder. They’re so very close, Dongmyeong can even feel his warmth, his quivering chest as he takes the used up rag and gently patting his chest dry- pointlessly. “I get to see _you.”_   
  
“Dongmyeong-” Harin whispers, like an exhale, something in his eyes darkening around the edges. He goes from Mr.nice to Mr. owner of all of Dongmyeong’s dreams and he can’t help it when he pulls away with a coy lip bite, throwing the rag back to him.   
  
Oh the thrill of the chase. He missed this.   
  
“I should leave you to it… I have _such_ a long walk back home…”  
  
Dongmyeong may not have gotten kissed against a car in the workshop. But he does get kissed in the back of Harin’s car later than evening, as the mechanic kindly offers to give him a ride home. Harin hasn’t even had time to shower, some of the grease still clinging to his arms staining Dongmyeong’s perfectly white shirt, crumpling it up with his strong hands around his waists and smearing the chapstick stickily all over his face.   
  
But that’s okay. He gave up his car for this. A shirt be damned. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Lmk if you liked it in the comments <3 <3


	4. Youngjo/Hwanwoong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh my god, is that a pimple on my face-” Youngjo frowns, trying to reach out to touch his face again. It startles Hwanwoong so badly he ends up pulling back with such force his new large knees bump against the table.
> 
> “Shut up! I look cute- I mean, you look cute- I mean-” Hwanwoong stammers, ending his little shameful outburst with a huff and crossed arms over his chest that make him hit his elbow against the table. Goddamn cramped spaces- “Whatever.”
> 
> Or, rawoong body swap!

“Oh god, oh god, oh _god_ -” Hwanwoong panics, mumbling to himself as he rocks back and forth in his chair.  
  
It’s too small for him. Everything is too small for him now, long clumsy limbs bumping into everything and everyone as he hunches his now gigantic shoulders up to make himself as small as possible. Sure, being tall has always been his dream- but not like this. Not at the cost of his literal _sanity._ _  
__  
_Youngjo is nowhere to be seen, feeding into his ecstatic nerves that won’t seem to give him a break any time soon. It doesn’t help that he’s gotten hit on twice already since he entered the coffee shop- and whereas Hwanwoong would normally be elated at that kind of turn of events, this just feels like a gigantic, mean joke from the cosmos.  
  
Finally, the bell chimes- and there he is. Youngjo. Or rather _him._ Youngjo in his body wearing Hwanwoong’s most obnoxious outfit, oversized tee with a street art stamp, a bucket hat and those awful shades that Hwanwoong should have gotten rid of- a long time ago. He looks ridiculous, and Hwanwoong doesn’t even know whether to qualify this as self-embarrassment or second hand embarrassment- yet the sight is enough to have Hwanwoong spiralling again.  
  
Youngjo walks over him with a smile- and it’s such a foreign smile on his face, so _Youngjo-_ _  
__  
_“Sorry-” Hwanwoong- no. Youngjo sighs as he sits down and takes the shades off- forcing Hwanwoong to look deep into his very own eyes. And try not to faint. “Your house is a mess and I couldn’t find the keys- also, you smell _awful_ in the morning so I had to take a shower-”  
  
“You did _what?”_ Hwanwoong gasps, eyes widening in horror and cheeks tinting a distinctly bright pink that has Youngjo cooing at him- god is _that_ what his voice sounds like?  
  
“I showered- yeah and you kind of need better skincare. Your cleanser was…-”  
  
“How could you do that?!” Hwanwoong protests, high pitched and whiny as he slaps Youngjo’s tiny hands away from his face with way more force than he meant when the other tries to touch him- or himself. He doesn’t know anymore. “You can’t just shower me- shower my body- just- you can’t just- just get me naked and- and-” The sight is way too much for his poor, feeble sanity to currently deal with, as he just gives in and slams his head on the table with a whine. “Don’t shower. Just. Never shower.”  
  
“Hey, hey, don’t do that, you’ll bruise me-” Youngjo urges, cupping his cheeks and leading him to straighten up. He looks so completely unbothered, so utterly comfortable with the whole situation and Hwanwoong can’t even fathom _how._ He should be panicking. He should be hysterical, he should- he should just not be so damn calm. Doesn’t he see how absurd the situation is?! “Listen, Woong. For what’s worth, I didn’t even look… that much-”  
  
“Youngjo!”  
  
“What did you even expect me to do?! Not shower? Not go to the toilet- god, Hwanwoong please tell me you at least went to the toilet.”  
  
Youngjo’s deadpan expression has Hwanwoong swallowing and slightly ashamed to be read like an open book- even _in another person’s body._ _  
__  
_Youngjo rolls his eyes, Hwanwoong’s face giving it an extra sassy look that has him quite fascinated to say the least. This gotta be the most bizarre experience in his whole life.  
  
“Woong.” Youngjo sighs, as he reaches out to fix Hwanwoong’s now dry and slightly curly hair with extra fondness. “I know this is weird. But please don’t give my body kidney stones or something-” The caress feels foreign yet strangely soothing, and Hwanwoong ends up taking a long, deep inhale to fill those extra large lungs of his.  
  
“Okay.” He gives in, trying to relax after a long morning of pure, atrocious panic.  
  
“Oh my god, is that a pimple on my face-” Youngjo frowns, trying to reach out to touch his face again. It startles Hwanwoong so badly he ends up pulling back with such force his new large knees bump against the table.  
  
“Shut up! I look cute- I mean, you look cute- I mean-” Hwanwoong stammers, ending up his little shameful outburst with a huff and crossed arms over his chest that make him hit his elbow against the table. Goddamn cramped spaces- “Whatever.”  
  
Youngjo laughs, high and slightly squeaky in a way that completely clashes with Hwanwoong’s own, but it’s okay. It makes Hwanwoong’s borrowed heart skip a beat nonetheless, just like in his own body. _  
__  
_“What are we going to do- How did this even _happen-_ ” Hwanwoong sighs after a few moments of silence, as a continuation of their earlier panicked call that morning, as soon as they both woke up.  
  
“Hey, we’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out together, okay?” Youngjo reassures him, his small hand over Hwanwoong’s now big, elegant ones that he admittedly hasn’t been able to stop staring all the way to the coffee shop.  
  
Of all people the universe could have made him trade bodies with, Hwanwoong just had to end up in the body of his best friend and incurable crush- he doesn’t know whether this counts as a blessing or a curse.  
  
They trade phones after that, reply to the accumulated messages and notifications. Hwanwoong notices that Youngjo has somehow managed to already wreck havoc on his tinder and huffs in annoyance, unmatching everyone that has sent him greasy comments or bad pick up lines. Youngjo comments with sudden loud excitement that he’s found a reddit thread with similar experiences to them, and Hwanwoong scrambles to take his phone and read.  
  
“It’s not bullshit, is it?”  
  
“Sounds pretty legit… body swap out of nowhere, nothing else in their lives has changed, and all of them in the last year...some people replied they lived the same- it can't be a big elaborated prank, not if it's happening to us.” Youngjo thinks aloud as he drums his fingers on the table while Hwanwoong reads.  
  
“Oh! They all lasted a week-” Hwanwoong exclaims, Youngjo’s voice cracking on him and making Youngjo cringe. Relief washes over him, giddy excitement taking over his extra large body at the prospect of an out to this nightmare.  
  
“Yeah though… there’s one little thing…” Youngjo mumbles with seeming reluctance, almost as though he didn’t want to say it out loud Hwanwoong blinks, expectantly as he gives him back his phone. “All of these people were either dating or in love.” He finishes after a long pause, giving Hwanwoong a pointed, searching look.  
  
Hwanwoong can feel Youngjo’s own heart pounding, so very loud he can hear it in his own ears. “That’s- That’s huh… weird.”  
  
Youngjo smiles at that, looking away almost knowingly, and making Hwanwoong’s heart rate go even faster still. It feels as though time threaded slowly, painfully so, each minute movement Youngjo makes resonating in his head. 

“I don’t think it’s weird at all.” Youngjo finally says, the shadow of secretive amusement gracing his face, and before Hwanwoong can reply, Youngjo gets up and goes to buy them both drinks, the strangeness of seeing his own back distracting Hwanwoong enough to be able to at least breathe.  
  
When Youngjo comes back, the weird interaction is left forgotten.  
  
Hwanwoong complains about Youngjo using his money, and Youngjo authorizes Hwanwoong to splurge as much as he wants, if just to get him to smile.  
  
It works. And how could it not? Youngjo’s always spoiling him, even now.   
  
“We’re gonna need boundaries if we want to make this work.”  
  
“Mhm.” Youngjo replies, noncommittal as he looks at his reflection on the dark screen of his phone. Old habits die hard, it seems. Or maybe… maybe he just likes Hwanwoong’s reflection as much as he likes his own, he thinks, and tries not to blush yet again.  
  
While they try to list things to avoid for the time being- no sex, no looking in the mirror naked, no social media usage, no haircuts, no _self pleasure-_ Youngjo emails his job. He takes the week off with the excuse of a fake illness-if just to relieve Hwanwoong of the stress of going to the studio and pretend to know people- pretend like he has any idea of how making music works.  
  
“I could make a few beats.” Hwanwoong huffs, slightly offended but mostly at ease- so terribly fond of how considerate Youngjo always is, how he keeps his well-being in mind no matter the consequences.  
  
“Woong, I love you but I don’t trust you to touch my computer and not erase half my songs-”  
  
“Mean.”  
  
Youngjo chuckles at their usual, playful banter- and if Hwanwoong wasn’t at the verge of dissociating every five seconds, he could actually consider this pleasant enough- almost normal.  
  
“Are you planning to make me give dance lessons and get you kicked from your job or-” Youngjo asks, curious as to what his fate is gonna be for the next week  
  
“I’ll pretend I’ve sent you- I mean me- me as you. I’ll just pretend I’m a substitute teacher for now. Til this is over. I need something to do- otherwise I’m gonna go insane. Though I don’t know how I’m gonna pull this off, you’re just so tight-”  
  
Youngjo raises his eyebrows, making him blush for the third time this morning.  
  
“I mean inflexible! God, shut _up-”_ _  
__  
_“I didn’t say a thing!” Youngjo raises his short arms up in defense. "But... feels a little unfair to complain about me showering if you're saying those things-"  
  
“Oh my _god_ , I didn’t even touch you-”  
  
“Bet you wanted though-”  
  
“Kim Youngjo I swear to god, keep this up and I’ll shave my head.”  
  
The threat is enough for Youngjo’s- Hwanwoong’s- smug face to turn into one of horror and finally Hwanwoong feels like he’s got some sort of leverage over the situation  
  
Hwanwoong can’t help but grimace for his own taste buds when he sees Youngjo forcing an unsweetened americano into his body. On his part, Youngjo complains that Hwanwoong will make him fat with that 90% sugar 10% actual drink white mocha that he always asks for- how Youngjo remembered his usual order is impressive- but Hwanwoong decides not to give it much thought, at risk of melting for his crush, sticking his tongue out at him instead.

Serves him right for showering without his permission.  
  
“You’re cute naked anyways.” Youngjo mumbles, prompting Hwanwoong to choke on his drink. “I don’t think I’ll mind this at all.”  
  
When Youngjo joyfully chuckles at him and cleans him up with a napkin, Hwanwoong stares, dumbfounded.

The date is cut short soon after. It’s better if they move to Youngjo’s place, he declares. That way they can minimize collateral damage, share expenses fairly, Youngjo can work from home and the clothes will fit them both. Hwanwoong, giddy and slightly nervous about it, agrees.  
  
As they walk back to Youngjo’s place, Hwanwoong teases Youngjo about his height, steals the ugly hat and puts it out of reach, forcing Youngjo to lose his pride to him and pout and whine to get it back. It’s a terrible power rush and the sight is strangely adorable- even if it’s his own face. He understands why he’s teased oh so often now.  
  
“Yeo Hwanwoong, you’ll see when I get my body back-”  
  
Hwanwoong laughs, and with newfound peace in his borrowed body he realizes that… it’s okay. Perhaps, he won’t mind this that much either.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you've liked, if you did, lmk in the comments!  
> (Also, you can find me on twitter @olisforest)


End file.
